


Silk Sheets and an Unmarked Million

by shippingandrecieving



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Biting, M/M, a good ole millenium reacharound, and spangles, handjobs, the thief kings kleptomania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 10:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17078618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippingandrecieving/pseuds/shippingandrecieving
Summary: What Isis Ishtar and Ryou Bakura don't know, wont hurt them. Much.





	Silk Sheets and an Unmarked Million

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes Thief King 'I don't need nobody' Bakura  
> Marik: Hi  
> TBK: ono

When Bakura had come home to find Marik clad head to toe in gold jewellery-and not a single stitch else- he had made it his personal venture to bring his lover every piece he could get his hands on, which was however deep his pockets were at the time. He would disappear in the shroud of night and return with the dawn to present Marik with something shiny; not far from a magpie with a grasp of royalty. 

Bakura's host Ryou housed the three of them at the promise of their best behaviour and, surprising everyone, Domino City's resident Pharaoh and thief had kept their word. However, it was 03:07AM and they both were wide awake and bored. The perfect combination for a date, and what Ryou didn't know wouldn't hurt him. 

_Bakura swung the diamond necklace around his finger like a pendulum and gazed up at Marik through his lashes. "What can I say, habibi, cheap thrills and expansive tastes..." He shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk twisting the pretty bow of his lips. He hopped off of his position on the kitchen counter and pressed himself close, leaning_ _in to capture Marik's ear in his teeth._

_"You know," he purred, "In my time it was the pharaoh who made the rules. Now there's no pharaoh, so there's no rules. Want to rob the bank?"_

The heist was a spur of the moment plan, a Bonnie and Clyde crescendo to their evening and the greatest decision of their lives to date. It was a jewellers they tossed not a bank after all as Isis had made them promise, no robbing banks, no bringing about the end of the world, and absolutely no harm to come to his host or her younger brother. She was a scary lady. 

Marik's heart tripped faster with the aftershocks of the adrenalin rush of robbing a jewellers clean, along with the vibrating rumble of the engine between his legs that did nothing to ease the building heat spreading through him like an Egyptian summer.

The night air was cool except for Bakura's breath, puffing and purring into his hair, lips and teeth close enough to graze the shell of his ear with every smirk and hissed order to go faster, to do something absurdly dangerous.

Bakura howled and laughed -bright and riotous- alternating from pressing close to Marik's back, arms coiled tight around his waist like creeper vines to standing on the foot bars and hollering his pleasure to the skies loud enough to rouse the Gods.

Marik's smile grew with each skip of his heartbeat and laughed and cheered along with his white haired counterpart, their clamorous joy sang a rowdy duet with the spluttering growl of the engine of Marik's 'borrowed' motorcycle. He had long since tossed caution into gale force winds and barrelled towards oncoming traffic. 

The tires skidded on the wet tarmac and they drifted unsteadily around a sharp corner, lurching sharply to the right. One moment it's riders felt themselves tipping then a sudden burst of power and a sharp veer to the left had them righted and back to weaving between fast moving cars. The swerve caused several paper notes to fly free from the duffel bag Bakura had stuffed them into.

Near death experiences were nothing more than mere inconveniences to the Pharaohs of the underworld, the owners of two of the mythical millennium pieces.   

The passing lights ignited an unnatural flicker in their wild eyes and revealed teeth. For a moment the journey was almost peaceful, nothing but shared warmth and the rushing wind.

They pulled into the walled carpark and Marik revved the engine, obscenely loud in the quiet twilight hours, before cutting it off. They slung weighty begs over their shoulders and jostled each other, giggling, as they stumbled up towards their apartment building.

There was already someone waiting for the lift, Bakura's lip curled when the foul scent of cheap beer hit his senses in the confined box of the lobby.

The thief narrowed his eyes and sneered, jerking his head towards the fire exit. Despite riding around in Domino City's pretty boy there was still something dangerous in the way he held Ryou's body.

Maybe it was the fresh pink of the scarred puncture wound on the back of his hand, or the hanging scent of blood that the Ring constantly emanated, or the chilling, giddy look of murder that glowed in Bakura's copper eyes, but something sent the drunk backpedalling down the short corridor and stumbling out into the carpark.

As soon as they were alone, Marik crowded them into the creaky, old elevator. 

Bakura groaned, head hitting the flimsy metal wall with a muted clang and jammed his thumb into the button for hopefully their floor. Marik's teeth grazed and nipped a pinprick trail across his pronounced collarbones, his nimble tanned fingers pulled at the collar of Bakura's striped tee shirt to halfway towards his sternum.

Marik secretly loved this particular shirt; the thick blue and white stripes seemed a little comical to him for the spirit of arguably the greatest thief ever to live to wear, not to mention the way it pulled his wild white hair even wilder when yanked over his head when things got hotter than midday in Cairo, well it was no secret to anyone how much Marik liked that. 

The elevator shuddered to a stop and the doors slid open just as Marik's tongue slid into Bakura's mouth. The wet push and pull turned desperate for the thief and wicked for the tombkeeper and he smiled against his lover's lips, taking one in his teeth as he pulled away. Bakura's borrowed body arched and slumped back against the elevator wall and his pale cheeks were flushed a delicate pink. 

Marik nimbly hopped back and mirrored Bakura's predatory advance every step backwards with his bejewelled hands folded coyly behind his back. His teasing stopped abruptly when he spied the newly replaced house plant beside the elevator doors and flashed Bakura a devious smile. Identical gaudy potted plants were in the same place on every floor probably in an attempt to make the apartment block rival the high end, fancy ones. 

Bakura matched the other boy's Cheshire grin and in three powerful strides he was stood beside the pot and have it a monumental kick that sent it careering down the hallway leaving a trail of dirt and woodchip shavings in its wake until it smashed against the opposite wall.

They took off at a sprint down the hallway, boots stamping with enough force to rattle the light fixtures on the floor below.

Marik giggled, shooting a sultry look over his shoulder at Bakura as he jangled their key in the lock, "Menace."

Bakura's palm cracked down on Marik's backside, "Scoundrel..." he purred back, pressing against him.

As soon as the door had shut behnd them Marik shoved Bakura back and up against it, fisting his hands into moonlight hair and tugging hard enough to pull a strained grunt from the usually composed spirit.

The rare occasions in which the thief let Marik take the lead, the tomb keeper felt like he was sticking his hand into the maw of a starving lion.

Bakura gripped Marik's shoulders and pulled back to catch his breath, but he didn't allow either of them to go far. He suddenly froze, pleasure clouded eyes clearing in the wake of a slow maniacal grin beginning to spread, lighting up his entire face. His focus returned dead set to Marik's questioning look and kissed him fiercely. A little more pressure against Marik and he had them walking backwards further into their apartment.

Bakura's leather jacket hit the floor along the way with Marik's soft violet cropped hoodie- Bakura though it looked ridiculous when he had first met the renegade tombkeeper and still did, tight fitting and adorned with gold chains and too damn distracting. He enjoyed watching the other boy' reaction while distracted by a new thing he had been denied kept underground with the mummified remains of ancient corpses and abuse and creeping madness.

The white haired thief backed them into their bedroom, moaning into Marik's mouth. The material of the tight black vest rode up Marik's torso with the motions of Bakura's  wandering, groping hands. 

Marik keened, Bakura's thumbs pressed and circled his nipples, growling at the feeling of the metal studs rolling under his touch. 

The tombkeepers eyes snapped open and he tugged hard at Bakura's hair, shuddering breaths fanning against the spirit's face. His pupils blown wide, obsidian black almost entirely eclipsing the gentle lilac of his irises. "Get my pants. Off. _Now_."

"As my Pharaoh wishes..." Bakura purred, sinking to his knees and teasing the button of Marik's cargos with his teeth. Calling Marik _Pharaoh_ always got him off. He peered up at Marik through his feathery lashes and slid the other boy's cargos and pants down in the same motion, kissing and nipping at his exposed thighs as his fingers made short work of the laces of his boots. Marik kicked the restricting cloth and shoes away.

Bakura stood, dragging the Egyptian boy in for a searing kiss. He broke the kiss with a lewd wet noise and pulled away with a smile, all teeth and excitement, and upended the duffel bag of money over the bed.

His grin turned sly and he placed his hands firmly against his lovers chest and shoved him down. Marik reclined a little but resisted -only for a moment just to see the brief flicker of annoyance shadow Bakura's copper eyes- before splaying out against the slippery silk of their bedsheets.

Bakura licked his lips, tore off his t-shirt, and clambered on top of him.

The sharpened points of the millennium ring traced over Marik's chest where it hung down from Bakura's neck, if the cursed metal had any more weight the tips would have drawn crimson in their wake.

Caught in the rising glow of the streetlights the stark contrast in Marik's copper gold and Bakura's starlight white were shown in full against the dark, as opposite and perfectly matched as the sun and the moon.

Bakura plucked a pretty chandelier earing off the sheets next to Marik's shoulder where it-and more jewellery he had stolen- lay and eased it through the hole pierced through Marik's earlobe. He moved soft locks of spun gold away with his little finger and delicately hung the ornament without snagging skin with the hooked wire. 

The blond linked their fingers together and ran the back of a nail over the hoops and chains, the soft noise twinkling and musical.

"How do I look, _habibi?_ "

"Kingly." Was all Bakura could say before they surged together.

They pressed together like the pages of a closed book, bodies rolling and mouths crashing like waves against the coastline. The kisses turned wet and suffocating, lips slick with spit. When they parted they were both panting like they had climbed up the side of the great pyramid but this one was theirs, a monument to their love. Marik's fingers found the dips in Bakura's chest where the teeth of the millennium ring had bitten into Ryou Bakura's flesh at the thief kings bidding. 

Marik gazed up at the shadow of the thief king above him through his lashes with a sultry kind of confidence, expectant and ready and with complete trust.

He had to see, he had to know. Bakura pulled Marik up off the mattress and across the room to stand in front of the mirror, the blond boy's many bangles jangling sweetly with the motion. 

Stood naked and dripping in gold, Bakura's eyes met his in the reflection of the glass and gleamed with a mix of reverence and possessiveness. 

"My Marik," Bakura purred, moulding himself to his lovers back and leering over his shoulder, "Beautiful...Resplendent..." Marik gasped shakily at his touch, head falling back onto Bakura's shoulder. He chuckled huskily into the hair behind Marik's ear, as harsh and as hot as the sands he once called home, and left a trail of hot, wet kisses up Marik's neck to bite a bright fresh bruise into the sensitive skin just behind his lover's ear.

Bakura's alabaster fingers closed around Marik's throat making fine golden chains clink from the pressure. 

Marik's name rolled off his tongue with the same enraptured devotion of a priest with his scriptures. His pale hand travelled lower, nails chiming against the golden chains around the tombkeepers throat and strung over his sternum. 

The snarky comment that died on Marik's tongue was resurrected as a throaty gasp as the thief king's fingers tightened around the base of his length. bit back a whine and rocked his hips forward, chasing Bakura's touch.

The half light spilling forth from a split between the curtains caught and shone in Bakura's white hair like moonlight through fog. He chuckled darkly, and swiped his thumb over the swollen head of Marik's cock before squeezing just shy of too hard.

Delicate tanned hands grasped at Bakura's thighs, hot skin and cold metal, fingertips digging in and scrabbling against pale blue denim. Marik's entire body shuddered in Bakura's grasp and spilled over his fingers with a ragged moan. Though Ryou's body was slim and slight, Bakura had the strength to hold Marik up with ease when his legs struggled to keep him upright. 

Marik's eyes fluttered open from where they had shut when the pleasure had built too high, turning his head and capturing his lover in the depths of his lavender field eyes. For a moment they were together among the monoliths of painted sandstone and a soft wind rushing through stalks of papyrus reeds before the muffled sounds of Domino city's nightlife drew them back. 

Marik recovered and spun them suddenly, Bakura hissed as his back hit the chilled glass of the mirror and Marik pressed against him with a grin, bright and kingly but still looking a little dazed. The tombkeeper leered forward, his blond hair ruffled and framing his face like the wings of a golden dragon. 

Bakura reached up and cupped his cheek, marvelling at how perfectly they fit together. Delicate touches and hushed whispers of love were kept for locked doors and fogged up windows, handprints misting over in the wake of their passion. Before, affection was a bygone luxury that only the fractured glass of old memories held. But for Marik, he would roam the Duat unguided. 

Soft lips and sharp teeth captured his mouth and the smooth slide of Marik's hand caught him by surprise, golden bangles chiming with the motions of his wrist. He groped at the solid bulge in Bakura's jeans and rubbed his thumb over the waistline against the smooth skin of his stomach. Marik bit possessive marks into the skin of Bakura's throat and his breath stuttered out in a little laugh as his lover smacked his hands away to rip open the button and yank down the zip.

Bakura ground forward against Marik's hand moaning freely to the ceiling, voice lilting higher at the climbing speed and pressure. He rolled his head forward and mouthed wetly against the warm tanned skin of Marik's shoulder, the chains hung around his neck dug little shapes into the softness of Bakura's cheek.

He groaned through clenched teeth, arching back, hips rocking faster and clutching Marik's shoulders in a punishing grip. His wild, breathy gasps a mixture of Marik's name and soft sighs of _hayati._

A few more smooth pumps and he was there, streaking white over Marik's knuckles and smearing over his stomach. Bakura arched, shuddered, and slid down the sheet of silver glass, pulling Marik down with him.

The golden tombkeeper laughed aloud at the now soft and boneless Thief King crumpled like a pile of old scrolls. The slit of light fell over Marik in a diagonal shard of neon and white, catching on the gold and hanging jewels strewn across his body like banners of royalty. 

Bakura stared up at Marik, expression open and foolish. In comparison to his love, Ra was nothing but lacklustre brass. He was ready to renounce the Gods at Marik's behest, he would worship him like a heretic until the Afterlife took him.

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to 'I Can't Decide' by Scissor Sisters while I wrote this why does it fit them so well??
> 
>  
> 
> Hayati/Habibi is Arabic for my life/my love (it's pretty cute (and I learned that from Assassins Creed Origins!))


End file.
